


I may be soft in your palm But I'll soon grow hungry for a fight (and i will not let you in)

by nulliusrei



Series: I'LL DROWN IN THE WONDERS AND THE WAS [1]
Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Slow Burn, everyone loves guts, future mature themes, how the fuck do i use tags, i hate griffith, like slooooooow burn, theres alot of shit going on, warnings to be tagged later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22198261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nulliusrei/pseuds/nulliusrei
Summary: scratching old wounds
Relationships: Casca (Berserk)/Reader, Casca/Guts (Berserk), Casca/Guts (Berserk)/Reader, Guts (Berserk)/Reader, minor griffith/casca, minor griffith/reader, minor guts/griffith
Series: I'LL DROWN IN THE WONDERS AND THE WAS [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625692
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever fic! i was literally bored and overwhelmed with uni so i sat down and wrote this mess bc i love berserk and i love the main trio. There aren't many berserk fics on the world wide web so i came to deliver. This started as a reader insert but writting in a 2nd person pov seemed weird to me... ill try to update this as often as i can but im busy haha  
> english isnt my first language so keep that in mind whenever you see me repeating words or completely fucking up grammar :~) not my fault i only know like 3 and a half adjectives.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (read the notes at the end of this chapter to understand where im going w this and for extra info)

There was an eclipse the night he found her.

The horse was getting slower and slower as it restlessly trekked down the rough path of stone and uneven soil.

Food and water supplies had ran out the day before and combined with the stinging cold weather and the lack of rest both on her part and the old animals&rsquo she had a few hours left before ultimately collapsing in the middle of nowhere.

She couldn't feel her fingers as they gripped onto the reins, holding on tightly to prevent her body from succumbing to the exhaustion and falling off the horse. After all, going forward was the only option. There weren't any tears left to shed. She could feel her heart all the way up to her throat, all the pent up frustration threatening to escape like a dam ready to burst open and swallow everything on its way.

She smelled like ash and burnt hair and probably looked like it too. The black cloak draped over her form barely hiding the grime and dirt accumulated over weeks on the road. Bruises halfway healed, blending in with the dark clothing. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. Her skin felt itchy, her soul trying to claw the way out of her body, the numbness of the cold turning into the prickling of a thousand needles. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

The thump on the ground snapped her out of her delirium, her body falling off the horse and rattling the eerie silence of the landscape around her. The fog was thick and suffocating, hiding the endless plains and imposing mountains around the forest. Eyes glassy and unfocused, desperately trying to stay open in a pathetic attempt to grasp at the little life she had left. Her head was spinning, ears ringing and in the midst of her internal chaos she noticed the shadows materializing out of the darkness and approaching her limp body.

Salene doesn't believe in the divine. Not after what she has witnessed. Death was the one true god in her mind and so the moment the figures crouched over her soon to be corpse she didn't put up a fight. Instead she closed her eyes and let go.

.

A chirping bird, the sound of friends bickering, the clank of two swords colliding. Sunlight seeped through the tent cloaking everything in a warm golden glow. Maybe the other side wasn't as horrible as they make it out to be.

She didn't know where she was or how she got there. Shifting in and out of consciousness proved to be more disorienting than she thought but it wasn't unwelcome: Salene couldn't remember the last time she had such a good moment of rest.

When she opened her eyes for what felt like the millionth time a flash of silver immediately caught her attention.

In her 19 years of existence she had never seen a person so beautiful, so ethereal and divine. The beat of her heart quickened to a dangerous degree, the palpitations snapping her out of the warm, comforting womb of sleep. Maybe god was real. She would've died a thousand deaths if it meant seeing him every time she woke up: an angel in human form.

The sunlight was his halo and his blowing hair his wings. Dying didn't seem that bad all of a sudden.

The man introduced himself as Griffith as he helped her up and gave her water. Voice calm and serene stare fixated on her face, he observed her patiently without saying much until the warm drink soothed her sore throat. Neither of them made a move to start a conversation until she downed all the water and took in her surroundings.

In an instant all the bottled up panic and agitation resurfaced as she looked around the tent: the small space was filled with all kinds of weapons from swords to axes to morning stars and dirtied pieces of cloth stained with what could only be stale, dried blood.

The adrenaline rush made her body react faster than it should have in her battered state. In a split second the now empty cup flew across the tent and in a few painful wide steps she was out of the tent and away from the stoic man.

Of all the things she expected to see this wasn't one of them: people laughing , hugging each other and feasting under the midday sun. It all seemed like a noble painting, the picture a strikingly different one from the predicament she was in a few days ago -or at least how long she hoped had passed from that night.

Not being able to handle her weight, her legs gave out beneath her but before she could hit the ground Salene felt a warm body press on her back and a pair of lean arms hoisting her up straight. The beautiful man from before had an amused gleam in his eyes and a smile playing on his lips, certainly a change of character from the person observing her a mere seconds ago in the tent . The expression she had on her face must've been a good one because his smile bloomed into a melodic laugh that shook her body as it was being pressed into his.

"I'm Griffith. Welcome to the band of the hawk."

.

"Easy there kid, easy! We don't want you choking on the bread after barely bringing you back from the dead!"

The meat was cold and firmer than it should've been but with the emptiness of her stomach and the shakiness of her limbs Salene devoured it as if it were a meal fit for a king. She didn't even remember when the last time she ate actual, proper food was and she sure as hell wouldn't waste a single crumb off the wooden plate.

Turns out nearly dying increases you appetite.

The short man sitting next to Salene introduced himself as Judeau. He swooped in to talk to her and show her around after seeing the young woman practically run for her life out of the tent with Griffith on her tow.

Salene felt...warm.

Truthfully the man looked way too soft to be a merc and a few years too young to be calling her a kid as if he hadn't met her a few minutes ago but there was something about him that calmed her heart down and eased her anxiety. Salene embraced that feeling of serenity without questioning it and took a long, deep breath, shaking out the giddiness with every exhale. Her belly was somewhat full (as full as it could be after days of eating leftover scraps and things found in the forest she was not exactly proud of eating ) and her mind was slowly starting to process the position she found herself in.

The feminine man- Griffith, told her he wanted to talk to her but only after she had a full meal and time to fully wake up, and had left before she managed to say anything. Judeau took that as an opportunity to fill her in on the basics and maybe pry a few information out of her, though to no avail.

When she got up to leave Judeau helped her rise to her feet and offered to guide her to Griffith. He kept walking a little too close to her- something that didn&rsquot go unnoticed but was quickly dismissed. She would be weary of a mysterious stranger too she thought, especially if said stranger tried to flee earlier.

The weather was cold but not uncomfortably so: the sun shone down on the grass and the vast planes spreading out endlessly beneath the hill atop of which Griffith stood. He was still, a divine statue amidst a static world, the late winter breeze making his long hair dance around his shoulders.

In her entire life Salene had never felt more intimidated by someone as she was by Him. Mortals weren't to be feared of; no matter how menacing or great they made themselves to be. That's what she was taught- that's what she had believed her whole life.

But the moment Griffith turned around to look at her as she was approaching the top, Salene's blood ran cold in her veins. The iciness spread like wildfire over her body paralyzing her momentarily and making her heartbeat quicken once again. Judeau had left without her noticing and with no one to drag her stiff body to move she was stuck to her place.

Griffith's stare proved to be more disarming the longer it was fixated on her and for a split second she allowed herself to bask in it- fight or flight response be damned as long as those eyes pierced her entire being.

The moment started just like it ended: abruptly. Griffith's reserved smile returned once again and her feet were moving along the grass making her question whether it was all just her imagination or not. “You never told me your na-“

“Who are you.”

The startled look on his face only seemed to egg her on more .It would have surprised Salene as well had she not been high on disorientation.

“I already introduced myself earlier. I am Griffi-“

“No. who are you, _really_.” She cut him off without meaning to. Her gut was telling her otherwise but her mouth could spill out her thoughts like an overflowed river. She knew as much and couldn’t help it.

The short lived moment of surprise faded away and the small smile was back again. It made Salene lightheaded.

“Why did you pick me up that night? What do you want?” She pressed on, firmer this time.

“Who said I wanted something from you” he said as he stared back at her, the amused glint from before back in his eyes.

“Everyone wants something. I wasn’t one of your own yet you took me in and nursed me back to health. You sure as hell want something from me” . _Everyone does,_ she continued internally, letting the thought linger before he replied back.

“I want you.”

The yelp escaped her before she could keep it in. He didn’t strike her as _that_ straightforward and - _oh my god what if his group isn’t really a merc band what have I gotten myself in-_

His laugh was melodic and genuine and suddenly you were the one caught off guard this time.

“You just said you don’t want anything from me, i- i want to pack my shit and leave-don’t just-!”

“I said I didn’t want anything from you but I never said I didn’t want _you._ The night we found you we were heading back from a massacre of a fight. I lost some of my men despite emerging victorious. I want you to join me, join us.”

The words died in her mouth. Cold sweat started to form like beads of condescension on her skin, the breeze blowing on her hair seemed colder than a second ago.

“I know you can fight. The scars on your body are too deep, too strategic to be accidental. Your hands are calloused and experienced with the blade, just like my men’s. There’s no chance a woman would’ve survived traveling alone with no fighting skills whatsoever. What I offer is a chance to protect yourself: a chance to find a goal.”

“Who told you I need that. What if I say no, what if I refuse.”

Rejection came automatically to her, this was too sudden: an anomaly that wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Should’ve left me out there to die.” She turned around biting down on her bottom lip until she tasted copper to ease the pain of her sore joints, but before she could make another move his voice stopped her dead on her tracks once more, cutting through the tense atmosphere and reaching her ears like he was right next to her.

“Everything happens for a reason. Tell me, do you believe in fate? Death was not to have taken you that night, the proof is us finding you as you were about to have your last breath. Join the band of the hawk. I want your sword in our battles. You came to us for a reason.”

_Bullshit_

“A woman’s place isn’t in the battlefield. You know that better than anyone. How many times have you seen the likes of me in merc bands hell, how many times have you seen a woman swing a blade. This is insane.” – _I’m scared._

“You’re not the only one.”

He remained calm throughout the most of the conversation and it unnerved her even more. It’s like he knew something that she didn’t and even the thought of it made her more and more uncomfortable.

“What do you mean?”

“We have another woman in the band. She was the one who took care of you while you were resting. You were knocked out for 4 days.” He finished the sentence with what sounded like a small huff and closed his eyes momentarily.

“I want you. I want you to join us and I won’t say it again. The choice is yours but we both already know what your answer is.”

.

.

.

"I’m Salene...

_...teach me how to wield a sword.”_

Time stood still, the birds stopped singing and the breeze suddenly didn’t seem so cold anymore.

You would be fine.

.

.

.

It was a few hours later when she met Casca.

Some of the band members lit up a bonfire in the middle of the camp urging everyone to gather around for cheap ale (after all merc gold could only pay for so much) and the promise of a good laugh.

Judeau introduced her to some of of his fellow bandmates, indirectly forcing her to talk to way more people that she would’ve desired with the headache she’s nursing.

Pippin, despite being undoubtedly the most imposing and ominous figure in the group upon first glance, turned out to be the most warmhearted, offering to introduce himself first- probably sensing Salene’s discomfort.

Corkus and Gaston caused a racket almost insulting her twice before they even told her their respective names, their boisterous nature making the atmosphere buzz around them wherever they went.

Rickert was the last one to talk, introducing himself with enthusiasm and a playful voice. He was so _young_ , and his presence in a merc group made her believe that maybe she made the right choice : everyone was welcome to the band of the hawk.

(looking back at it after all these years and everything that has happened they we so young, _too young_ , just children chasing after a dream that could never be, drunk on the afterglow of victorious battles and pouches filled with gold in exchange of killing as many people as they could without dying in the process. It all seems trivial and foolish now. After-)

_She_ was the last one to come and talk to her.

Salene could feel her staring from the other side of the fire, leaning on a tree, all pensive with the flames casting shadows on her warm skin.

Judeau noticed Salene watching and was quick to jump in between her thoughts to tell her not to take the other woman’s distanced attitude to heart.

“Casca’s always weary of the new members”. He slurred, ale thick on his tongue ,“Thas’ just her. Go on, talk to her. If you think she’s going to come over on her own you’re mistaken.” then punctuated his words with a laugh. Judeau seemed to do that a lot. Salene noticed that he was way more observing than he let on and with a nod she stood up after finishing the rest of her drink and headed towards the other side of the bonfire, next to the tree she was leaning against.

“So, you’re Casca. Nice to meet you, I’m Salene. ” Small talk was never her strongest point and she internally winced as soon as she spoke those words. Should’ve drank more ale, she thought, maybe one more cup. Or five. Definitely five.

“Hmph.”

The reserved woman’s reply did absolutely nothing to encourage Salene and she wished she hadn’t moved at all from her spot to attempt a conversation. So much for being polite.

With nothing interesting to say and slightly tipsy from the alcohol, she opted to stare at the woman-unashamedly so –until she turned her head and caught her gaze.

Up close Casca was captivating : a rough diamond , her beauty matched only by the fierceness she exuded. The way she carried herself was both feminine and masculine, the stance of a warrior ready to pounce at the next chance of a battle. A necessary choice of attitude for the only woman in a merc band to have.

“You’re planning on staring much longer or what?” she suddenly asked, turning her body towards Salene.

“ ..Huh, sorry. Truth be told I’ve been wanting to meet you all day long, since Griffith (–at the sound of that Cascas’ head snapped up towards her a little bit more-) told me there was another woman in the group. He also told me you took care of me while I was on the brink of death so uh. Thank you for that. Yeah. Yes. M’sorry”

If she had been a little bit more sober she would’ve winced at the way she was talking to her new companion but the ale was worse than she thought because the slight buzz she had when she came to sit next to Casca turned into a full blown dizziness, leading her to stumble on her words.

Her verbal hopscotch must have amused the other woman enough because before Salene managed to get another word out Casca was chuckling, her shoulders moving up and down with her laugh.

“Relax. If Griffith chose you then I am sure you are good. Easy on the ale though, those bastards never buy the good stuff.” She gave her a lopsided smile.

“Figures.”

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed, the only sound filling up the space being the hearty laughs and songs of the members gathered around the fire.

“How do you do it?” Were the words Salene spoke without meaning to. Casca seemingly didn’t react to the question but before salene could elaborate she replied without hesitation:

“Being a woman or being a merc? Or maybe both? Life is a constant struggle with ourselves and the people around us. Griffith found me in my greatest time of need and offered me his sword…honestly before that I never thought I would be able to hold one let alone swing it and be good at it too. I have a purpose here, something to protect. Judeau says I’ve rejected my femininity in order to become a merc. Maybe…maybe not. That’s not what matters. What matters is to survive.”

Salene opened her mouth to speak but Casca cut her off and continued-

“There’s nothing wrong with being a woman. Out there, in the field, they will hurt you. Use it to make you feel disadvantaged. I only let my sword speak for me.”

This time her smile was smaller but still as genuine as the one before that.

“Teach me then” Salene whispered, slowly, as if she was telling her a secret only the two of them were to know.

Casca nodded before turning away to look at the flames of the fire.

That night Salene slept better than she had in months.

.

.

.

It had been roughly two years since she joined the band when _he_ showed up.

The first thing she saw was his sword. A thick piece of metal, bigger than him, and yet he swung it around in his two hands with ease as he forcefully delivered strike after strike to an opponent twice his size.

Bazuso was a beast in every sense of the word and he didn’t hesitate to show it. Watching him get his head crushed in by a careless teenager left you speechless to say the least.

The band of the hawk openly marveled at this man’s feat but Griffith’s silence was louder than all of their abrasive voice combined.

At the time she didn’t know they would be meeting again.

.

It all happened in a flash

Some of the less thoughtful members tried to attack the man from earlier in a half assed attempt to ambush him despite her and Casca’s protests, resulting in a death and a mutilation .

Griffith took action before Casca got injured –or worse- on behalf of the other members and in an instant the mystery man was on the ground almost bleeding to death.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the ones to take care of him were the two of them.

Taking turns keeping his body warm wasn’t exactly ideal for either Casca or Salene but orders were orders and Griffith was absolute. The man would sometimes mumble in his sleep and his body would start shaking, something that didn’t come as a surprise- horrible dreams were something that came along with the lifestyle. You can’t be a merc with a body count and not get tormented in your sleep by the souls you’ve reaped.

The higher the body count the worse the dreams.

You had never seen someone shake life that.

Casca’s annoyance wasn’t exactly masked and trying to calm her down after she nearly punched the man back into a coma proved to be fruitless. It all escalated when Griffith suggested- _demanded_ , he joins the band of the hawk, as if that man had not tried to slaughter its members.

The atmosphere was thick with tension. Casca refused to accept the man as a new member or talk to him at all, and _him_ seemingly determined to stay as far away from the members as possible.

But that wasn’t what worried her the most.

She had overheard Griffith’s and the man’s- _Guts_ -conversation and this was the first time her leader sounded so …out of character. She didn’t know how to explain it, for the 2 years she had been a part of this group -essenatially for as long as she had known him-Griffith wasn’t the one that was denied things. Guts’ initial determination to defy him and be left on his own devices stirred something within him, something she had never seen in Griffith.

Choosing to stay out of it for the time being and comfort Casca instead seemed like the better idea. Things were stiff and although a new addition is always something to celebrate over, everyone could feel the tension born of this unusual predicament.

Griffith was truly full of surprises, she thought.

She thought of the same thing when she caught a glimpse of a red, egg shaped charm on his neck when he was bathing the other morning.

.

Salene didn’t properly talk to guts until after the Nosferatu Zodd encounter.

She hadn’t felt useless in a long time. That night the deepest circle of hell opened up and that beast was what came out of it. Reality merged with fantasy, that fort should’ve been her eternal grave. The beasts’ sudden retreat was peculiar but a breath of fresh air in a room that reeked of death. She didn’t know what exactly happened that night until years ago –all it took was one look at Griffith’s unconscious body and he – _it?-_ vanished in a matter of seconds, but not before speaking words that you wouldn’t quite understand the meaning of until much, much later.

Prophesy. Death. Sacrifice.

The hand of God.

_(now you know you know you know you know **you know-** )_

_._

_._

_._

And she was running running , _running_ until her feet gave out and when that happened she clawed and _clawed_ and dragged herself out of there, let the flames purify her soul and body. Sensory overload, she could only smell the smoke and the fire and _god_ the burning flesh but she still ran all the way to the outskirts of the village where they kept the horses and quickly left before the flames could swallow her whole.

_You killed him._

_You killed him_

**_You ki-_ **

****

salene woke up with a gasp and a thump, her body still shaking from the dream, breath battered and gasping for air as if all the oxygen in the world couldn't fill up her burning lungs.

Her nightclothes were sticking to her body., the days were getting warm and though the nights were still cool, the beading of sweat on her forehead told another story.

She hadn’t had nightmares in a while. Not ones like this one.

They used to manifest at the very beginning of her days as a merc when the blood on her hands was just too much for a young girl- a _kid_ \- to handle and the nights were cold and unforgiving just like-

She couldn’t get yesterdays’ battle out of her mind. Something didn’t feel right, her mind running in circles, thoughts scattered and more questions than answers forming in her mind. It felt like an itch you couldn’t scratch, an uneasiness beyond the realm of logic, a fear of the unknown.

The castle was dark. But the silence was comforting instead of suffocating and she took everything in, trying to calm down her heartbeat and relax her mind.

Salene heard his voice before she saw him

He was sitting on the rooftop acompanied by sword, looking at the night sky. Not having noticed her near him, he continued to voice his thoughts out loud with the occasional swing of his blade, lost in his own little world.

Not wanting to startle him after all that happened she calmly announced her presence before climbing up to where he was at and invited herself to sit next to him.

“Hey” she whispered.

His reply was short and identical to hers. It was too late into the night and the world was too quiet for more words than necessary.

They both continued to stare at the stars in the sky before one of them finally spoke up.

“Are you okay?” Salene asked and after a long pause of silence Guts sighed and answered back to her:

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Our last battle was……..Casca is mad at you-more than usual at least. And Griffith, did you talk to him? I’m sure he’s not mad at you i-“

She sighed.

“What I’m trying to say is it’s not your fault. That…thing, whatever it was, it wasn’t like us. I was surprised you took it on for as long as you did.”

Then, silence.

She was ready to get up and call It a night when he finally said something:

“Did you hear what it said? The beast I mean. A death you will never escape will come for you, for me. If you told me before that night that things like it existed I would’ve called you fucking crazy.”

Salene took his pause as a cue to talk but before she could start a sentence he continued:

“I don’t know why he keeps risking his life for me, just for one soldier. He did it three years ago and he did it again yesterday. It doesn’t seem like him to do something like that, it’s too rash.”

“Have you tried asking him directly?”

“Huh?”

“Talk to him. Don’t let these questions torment you. You know…There is something I wanted to ask you too…Zodd… You were closer to him and Griffith when he left. He looked at Griffith right before he’d kill him but the next second he fled without an explanation…all that talk about sacrifices and death and- I just-I don’t know. What does this all mean?”

  
Another pregnant pause.

“He recognized that thing Griffith wears around his neck.”

“The red egg? What’s that anyways?”

“He knew what it was. He recognized it and flew away because of it.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the fact that yesterday was the closest they had all come to death since she joined the band. Regardless of the excuse Salene’s next words were something she wouldn’t have shared under different circumstances or with another person:

“You know…this isn’t the first time I come across a creature that’s not supposed to exist. Beyond the realm of logic I mean.”

Guts looked at her for a few seconds before huffing lightly and smiling just enough for the ends of his lips to turn upwards.

“That explains some things. You looked way too unbothered during the battle- and I don’t mean not frightened but. You look like you’ve seen some shit. That we haven’t I mean- stop staring at me like that dammit!”

Now it was her turn to laugh

“At least you don’t think I’m crazy.” she said, relief washing over your voice.

“Not after what we saw ,what we fought.”

He looked back up at the sky with his sword in his hands and Salene took a moment to _really_ look at him. She already knew Guts was the same age as herself, Casca and Griffith but it looked like he carried way more years and personal demons on his back than all the three of them combined. His face was so young but the scar running across his nose looked at least a decade old. How long has he been doing this thing? His sword is like an extension of his body- she had never seen him without it by his side. He’s kindhearted and you know it even though he tries to hide it as if it’s going to kill him.

Unwanted feelings and tenderness aren’t compatible with this lifestyle. Denying femininity was the only way both her and Casca were able to be taken seriously in this line of work- if she would even call what they were doing _work_ -and Salene would be caught dead before she’d be caught openly harboring romantic emotions and for fuck’s sake, _love_ for someone, especially a fellow comrade in battle.

Her heart sped up again.

This is _wrong_.

In the midst of all her thinking Guts turned around and caught her staring at him. Their eyes locked and stayed like that for longer than they should have. Salene never thought she would be able to blush again after all the shit she’d been through but the warm feeling on her cheeks and Gut’s eyes widening a little bit told her otherwise.

Deciding that it would’ve been best to go back to sleep, she stood up faster than intended and mumbled a quick goodnight to Guts who had turned around once again to watch her dumbfounded as she scrambled to pull herself together.

The last thing she told him before leaving was that he should talk to Griffith.

Guts smiled to himself before gripping his sword once again.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik this is late but im busy w uni :(
> 
> ive decided to make this a series and split it into 2 or 3 fics because otherwise it's going to be rlly long and just all over the place  
> SO this fic will focus on the events of the golden age and the splitting point between this and the next part of the series will be the eclipse bc i want a clear shift in the mood and the events overall.....maybe i shouldve settled with standalone short sories ....writing this is frying my brain lol
> 
> the mc hasn't really revealed her story and the true reason she joined the hawks..at first i wanted her to reveal everything in this chapter but then i thought it would be more appropriate and atmospheric (and ironic) to reveal everything after the eclipse so...yeah
> 
> (also uhh I feel like I rlly need to rewatch some character analysis videos on the main 3 bc im not sure I like this chapter idk)
> 
> feedback is welcome and encouraged! enjoy!

**I TRIED TO MAKE A HOME OUT OF YOU…**

_“Count Griffith_. Has a nice ring to it don’t you think?”

“Hn.”

Well wasn’t this delightful.

The weather was divine, the sun high in the sky like an angel smiling down from the heavens, soft breeze making the greenery dance around, nature’s own waltz. They really couldn’t have picked a better day.

Wyndham’s autumn hunt came right after Griffith’s newly appointed promotion and with the enigmatic nosferatu zodd encounter still fresh in everyone’s mind it would’ve certainly been the perfect distraction from the agony a merc’s life had to offer.

_Well._

Almost perfect.

Between Guts’ brooding attitude, Corkus going on and on and _on_ about about the honor that comes with guarding the king, and Casca too busy staring at Griffith and the princess, Salenes hopes of finally, _maybe_ enjoying a well-deserved semi day off seemed paler and paler.

A soldier’s only rest was his death- she knew that much but it didn’t mean she wasn’t hoping for a moment of quietude.

And then there was _Guts._

Salene swore in the three years she knew him (and she used that word- _known_ -very loosely) she had never seen him without his sword. He was always on edge, always battle ready like he came out from his mother’s womb with that god forsaken piece of metal in his hands. If she believed in fate and destiny -or any of that bullshit she often overhears some of her bandmates talk about after one too many mugs of ale- she would’ve said he was born for this.

Actual conversations with him were far and few between but Salene cherished them nonetheless. She refused to give up on him no matter how socially constipated he could be at times. Not after the talk they had on the roof a few moons ago.

Today though, all attempts at small talk went over his head, his pride like a thick shield guarding over his emotions.

_Tough bastard_

Guts caught her gaze out of the corner of his eye and she nearly got whiplash turning her head to the other side as if his attention was bright hot steel and her eyes were the fingers of a maiden holding it in a death grip.

The sudden uproar caused Salene to nearly fall off her horse in an attempt to fathom what in the world just happed and she barely caught griffin’s white horse disappear deeper into the trees right after the young princess.

Confusion turned into panic and with a shrill cry she kicked her horse and ordered her squad to follow as she ran after them, the gallop of the horses disturbing the lazy midday ambience.

\---

He was untouchable

He has always been and will always be. Movements too fluid and calculated to even be caressed by an enemy blade. An angel in the battlefield, ethereal and gracious.

Absolutely Terrifying.

That’s why watching the earth fall under his feet sent her heart into a frenzy, pushing her horse with more force than necessary just to be able to get to his side before he possibly bled out-

His right hand came out of his chest plate crimson but it was not blood that the glove had been soaked with.

The egg of the king.

Casca’s panic came to a halt, her disdain for the princess gone, eyes soft and dewy as they manically shifted from Griffith, to the egg and back to Griffith again.

_“-the devil’s luck”,_ Her bandmates’ voice snapped Salene out of her trance, making her step forward to help Casca bring Griffith up on his feet.

The former was in the midst of scolding her leader, worst case scenarios tumbling out of her mouth only resulting in making herself more and more anxious by the second. When Griffith ignored her in favor of consoling Charlotte, Salene wrapped an arm around casca’s shoulders; a friendly gesture that arose somewhere along the way. They had gotten more comfortable and familiar with each other, bonding over bloodied battlefields and glorious victories.

“It is quite expensive. The poison he used.”

Griffith’s composed voice cut through the tense air, as if the man hadn’t nearly _died_ a few minutes ago. Both women stared dumbfounded at their leader as he meticulously examined the arrow’s tip.

He seemed almost satisfied with the buildup of things, like an assassination attempt was solid enough proof that his plan was going exactly where he wanted it to. It almost comforted Salene in a way only Griffith could – _almost_ , but she had to remind herself that the event that had just transpired right before everyone’s eyes, confirmed that her leader’s dream was a step closer to becoming reality : powerful men were _feared_. Fear makes people do irrational things, make rash decisions. The assassination attempt solidified his power and influence and in the end turned the tables in his favor.

He has almost made it.

She knew He would soon be completely out of her reach.

It already hurt looking at him.it was like staring directly at the sun with your eyes wide open. It hurt and left her with stars in her vision, made her dizzy but _warm_ , like she had a purpose. It kept her close to him, to the band, helped her stay rooted to the ground.

But he was like the sun.

And she would let him burn her alive if it meant she could bask in his warmth one last time.

(He reminded her of-)

Salene didn’t know how that made her feel.

She didn’t know what to _think_.

So instead she let it go:

She took one last good look at the blood red charm engraving its grotesque nooks and crannies deep into her mind- She _swore_ that thing would come alive if she kept staring at it any longer.

“Gotta get me one of these ugly bastards” she murmured to herself before dusting the grass off her freshly polished armor and climbing back on her horse.

**…BUT DOORS LEAD TO TRAP DOORS…**

She knew something was off when guts disappeared without notice.

Her nightmares had been getting more and more violent ever since the nosferatu zodd episode. Ghosts of the past, men for whom she prayed to stay deep in hell, that night playing on repeat in her mind over and over and over again. Not even getting drunk to the point of blacking out helped anymore.

Not that _that_ ever stopped her.

The Ale was cheap and most definitely adulterated but the day had been a long and tiring one and the food was warm. The music playing in the background did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves but the sharp notes from the bagpipe instrument killed off her thoughts before they managed to form and sour her mood more that the drinks already had.

She was sitting across from casca who was studying Salene after every other sip of her drink, perceptive enough to tell something was bothering her but not knowing enough details to tell what it is.

When the conversation shifted to guts she let her head down low, focusing intently on the platter of roasted poultry as if the dead meat would start talking, easing all her worries.

The sensory overload was well overdue, all the foreign noises in the tavern blending into a cacophonous tune with the sole purpose of assaulting her eardrums. Shutting her eyes tightly she murmured a quick excuse at the rest of her comrades and deftly made her way towards the exit stairs of that dingy place avoiding all the drunk bodies of men trying to test their luck on her.

Casca, stunned as she was made her was towards Salene, slowly as to not overwhelm her, keeping her distance and waiting for the other woman to go outside first.

Salene’s hasty strides were cut short a few stairs short before the door by a hulking figure dressed in all black.

He came back.

Face tense and posture stiff as he was blocking the only exit, his head lowered as the moonlight shone on his dark clothes. Even in the dimly lit interior of the tavern Salene could make out the half dried patches on his cape. In her eyes he looked completely out of it- one swipe over his body confirmed her suspicions that he was indeed covered in blood, blood that was not _his_ judging by the fact that he was unscathed. Sure his hands were covered with it and his clothes were torn at places but he looked _fine_ save for a scratch or two _,_ and after making sure of she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

Opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water salene struggled to find her voice, to ask him what’s wrong- headache inducing music be damned- but the steps behind her interrupted her train of thought causing, her to shift her point of focus.

Salene turned her body halfway around, seeing casca’s equally worried features turn into pure annoyance as soon as she laid eyes on the man next to her. Before she could tell her to wait, Casca exploded at guts demanding to know where he had been all day, the man’s discomfort going undetected at first.

The more she took him in, _really_ took him, in the more she slowed down, stumbling over her words as the blood dripped from his boots onto the brick floor of the tavern.

“Where’s Griffith.”

It was less of a question and more of a thought accidentally being said out loud. His voice had never sounded so faint, so distant before. All the spunk and roughness that had been synonymous with guts gone altogether.

Her heart ached seeing him like this.

The other members sitting at the table waved clueless back at him as he scanned over the room for Griffith, barely registering casca’s words. The two women looked at each other as guts went out the door, heading straight to the palace grounds.

……………….

_‘I’m too drunk for this’_

It was late.

The area around Promrose Hall was quiet, the gardens sleeping in the night, only the crickets playing their lullaby- a juxtaposition to the lively ball inside, nobles dancing, drinking and scheming their way into each other’s social circles-not unlike the taverns the common folk frequent, just with more frills and dresses.

The scenery was beautiful. And so was Griffith.

He was like a beacon of light in the darkness; the moon went up in the sky that night just to shine on him. Dressed in expensive white silk he looked like he belonged there. He _knew_ he belonged there. Salene felt like a complete and utter fool in his presence. Griffith made her turn all poetic and honey tongued, like the young girl she once was, _way_ before the shitstorm that was her life unfolded.

She felt dizzy again.

He and Princess Charlotte were higher up the garden stairs next to the fountain, a painting come to life (-ironic, she thought: the three of them would always be staring up at him.)

The late night buzz was calm enough to help them make out their words from down there, something she was glad for, given that Guts tried to approach Griffith in all his bloody glory the moment he spotted him. She silently thanked casca for keeping him in his place attempting to wrap up his still open wound.

Griffith’s words cut deeper than any dagger, twisting in her gut like a knife. She still thinks about that night sometimes, scratching open wounds of a past that will never heal properly -not without losing a part of herself. A prophecy, spoken too soon for any of them to understand at the time. Three people slowly getting tangled up in the thread of fate until it grabs them by the neck and chokes the life out of them.

Vision blurry, she ached. Getting answers to questions she often asked herself but didn’t want the answers to.

Salene had never seen guts so broken, so taken aback, breath so shaky and _wrong_ he looked like a leaf trembling in the nighttime air.

Casca stayed silent. Griffith’s words echoed through the garden.

_“For me to call a man my friend he must be equal to me in all aspects.”_

The moment was interrupted when princess charlottes’ handmaiden came rushing through the greenery, her pleading voice bringing news of murder the implications of which hit Salene like a slap in the face.

Griffith looked like he was smiling.

….

**…A STAIRWAY LEADS TO NOTHING…**

She was fleeting in and out of worlds.

Sleep came less and less naturally, her nightmares lying dormant in the deepest parts of her mind ready to come out and devour her whole as soon as she rests her eyes. Her duties pilling up and threatening to collapse on her much like her fatigue.

Insomnia translates as guaranteed death for a mercenary and while she _knew_ that sleeping on the field is like asking for the enemy to skewer her, the horrors that await her on the other side of consciousness made her blood run cold more than any type of death by the hand of someone else.

Her pride, though, is stronger than all of the above.

People looking down on her as a soldier, a woman, or both is to be expected at this point. She doesn’t fight back like she did at the beginning, doesn’t strive to prove herself to every person that tries to ridicule her- no, It makes cutting them down with her sword easier.

The separation of her womanhood, her duties and her feelings is what brought her this far, what has earned her team’s respect. Sure it has gotten slightly better and more tolerable now that the band of the hawk is gaining newfound prestige but it’s still _there._

And fucking _hell_ if she doesn’t need a break.

The blue whale knights of Tudor were tougher than she would’ve hoped for.

Turns out trying to command a squad and fight at the same time is considerably harder to do with only a couple of sleep to cover up for the past days.

The landscape is spinning, her pupils struggling to focus, the lines between enemies and allies becoming more and more blurry with every blink.

Dragging herself closer to the edge of the conflict to assess the situation and gather her scattered pieces together she barely misses a hit on the head, successfully cutting down an enemy knight by pure luck.

Running on adrenaline is making her limbs heavy. Her blade feels like it’s slowing her down rather than helping her survive the fight, hands struggling to handle its weight.

Out of the corner of her eye she catches the spearman of the blue whale knights, a man shaped like a beast, -or more appropriately the opposite- clean a falcon’s head right of his shoulders, the sheer power of the blow sending the dismembered part rolling right next to her feet.

Salene knew her limits. She was a damn good fighter herself but she wasn’t one to succumb to hubris and take on powerful opponents when she was in no shape to do so just for the thrill of it and she _definitely_ wasn’t a fool. She knew her limits and almost never went beyond that.

But the sight of casca struggling to keep up and fend for herself made Salene pick up her sword high and run towards that man with the intent to kill.

To say that the spearman- _Adon_ \- was surprised to see not one but two women in the battlefield was an understatement. His laugh was obnoxious and belittling and _loud_ and it Salene was itching to gut him just to see him eat his own words.

“Snap out of it! Are you trying to get yourself killed!?” It took all her willpower to not stutter and pass out right in front of the enemy as she blocked his ranseur, the sheer power of his blow sending her a few feet back.

He had them both cornered, all it took was a couple more blows for her and Casca to fall down the steep cliff. Salene’s cries scrapped her sore throat; anger laced with desperation, desperation laced with fright-“ _for god’s sake, Casca”-_ she knew neither of them were in no shape to take him on, Casca swaying around and clutching her abdomen when she stood back up. She was so _stubborn_ and bloody _-_ minded maybe even more than herself and the only thing keeping her up and fighting was that bastard’s mocking words. She cared for Casca and seeing her in so much pain because she was too much of a hardass to request a dismissal because of her moon cycle was ridiculous.

If she wasn’t feeling like shit herself she would’ve slaughtered that demon and taken her out of battle to console her and clean her wounds _and tell her-_

Salene’s vision was getting dark. Black spots starting to crawl all over obscuring Adon and casca from her field of view. Cold sweat dripped down her neck, needles pricking her arms as they blocked off the beast’s strikes.

Closing her eyes quickly to get her mind together she opened them right on time when Adon directed his deathblow at Casca laughing maniacally, lewd comments more painful and spirit crushing than any strike of his weapon.

Jumping in front of her to receive and block the blunt force of the blow wasn’t something she should’ve done but she did it nonetheless .Shoving her aside she gripped the handle and the edge of her blade with each gloved hand and _pushed._

The last thing she saw was Casca’s terrified face and the stormy sky as she fell backwards.

Then, _finally_ , sleep.

Dark, dreamless sleep.

**…WHERE DO YOU GO WHEN GO GO QUIET?...**

.

Everything was hurting.

Her head was pounding, heartbeat so loud she felt it in her temples. Eyelids heavy, begging her to rest just a bit more.

The sound of rain droplets echoing inside the cave did nothing to soothe her hypersensitivity. She swore the headache she had during the battle sounded heavenly compared to the migraine she was experiencing.

Struggling with her disobedient limbs to sit up straight against the wall of the cave, she noticed guts cursing under his breath, trying to tame his armor and soaked clothes, wrenching them away from his body and throwing them on the uneven ground after undoing the buckles.

Salene’s movement caught his attention and for a moment he looked genuinely worried before he started scolding her for not staying in her place.

“-you’re still _injured_ I haven’t even cleaned your goddamn wound yet- no, _don’t_ _move your head’s bleeding-!”_

“Is she okay?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She couldn’t find the strength to get angry with him or make this into one of their usual banters.

“ _What_? Didn’t you hear what I just said you-“

“Is she _okay_? She’s breathing right? Is she okay?”

Guts was, to say the least, dumbfounded. Salene would’ve made fun of the stupid look on his face had it not been that she nearly died earlier.

“She’s fine, just unconscious. Checked on her earlier and she has a fever. _She’s burning…_ _damn woman , what made her think she could fight like that_.” The last part was more him talking to himself than directly to her as he got his shirt off, blood dripping down his side.

_“Women, they’re so-“_

_“Stop.”_ She mustered all her strength to make her voice as firm as she could. Tone serious, clearly stating that she wasn’t having any of his shit despite being ready to pass out and with an open wound still on her head.

Guts closed his mouth, his lips turning into a straight line as he looked around his pouch for gauze or a cloth appropriate for wrapping his wound with.

“Here” She said, arm reaching out towards him while he was busy getting frustrated with his lack of emergency provisions he packed with him for the fight.

 _Out of all the days to go through a near death experience today_ had _to be it_

“You shouldn’t move around up like this, for once listen to me you-“

“Guts. Sit down and _for once_ shut the hell up. Let me.”

Eyeing her suspiciously he settled on the ground cross legged with his arms on his knees and watched Salene as she twisted the makeshift gauze to get as much water out of it as possible and then unfold it to wrap it around his lower middle.

She was gentle, hands barely touching his skin, taking care so as to not put pressure on the inflamed skin around his wound.

Guts felt…..weird.

No one had ever been so careful, so gentle with him. The feeling was foreign and strange but surprisingly not unwelcome. He watched her closely as she finished the binding, tying the gauze into a knot and checking around his vitals for any serious wounds.

Without a word she made a move to get back up but lost her balance halfway. She would’ve landed straight onto the rocky terrain had guts not held her up on his chest.

“Go lie down and don’t even try to get back up again. You’re still bleeding.”

Visibly irritated but too tired to fight back she let guts carry her back and lay her down on a less uncomfortable corner of the cave next to Casca.

Salene reached out to touch the other woman and laid her palm over her hot forehead, brushing her still wet hair away from her face.

“Can’t let her stay in these, they’re soaked. She’ll freeze to death.”

Guts mumbling snapped her out of her thoughts as he kneeled down next to Salene with a soaked piece of cloth and slowly began cleaning the blood around her face and temples.

The wound was still fresh and the contact made her hiss but his other hand held her head in place. Salene laid back and closed her eyes, internally cursing the gods above for getting her in this predicament. She could feel her face burning again but she wasn’t so sure it was the injury that made her flush.

“You look awful”

_Asshole_

“I _feel_ awful. Take a wild guess why.”

“I don’t mean it like that and you know it. Getting your head split open has never made you look like _this_ before and it sure as hell hasn’t stopped you from being…you….annoying me.”

“Look who’s talkative today” she huffed, receiving a warning remark to stay still as a reply.

Both of them were silent for a few more minutes until guts spoke again.

“You were crying in your sleep, you know.”

Salene’s breath hitched, heart pounding against her ribs something she was sure guts could hear.

“It’s raining like hell outside. It’s just water on my face.”

“I can tell tears from water. I’m not stupid”

_“Really?”_

He let out a disapproving grunt, looking more frustrated than before but never changing his gentle grip on her head.

“I haven’t been sleeping. Got dizzy fighting Adon, lost my balance and got hit on the head. And here we are. I don’t want to talk about it more leave me alone, let it go.”

Not a lie but not the truth either.

“Stubborn…” He mumbled under his breath.

“You’re freezing”

“Well I am soaked to the bone in case you haven’t noticed”

“I’m nearly done. I’m going to remove casca’s clothes otherwise she’s going to freeze to death. Then I’m going to take off yours. _Sorry ‘bout that but-dammit! Stop moving!”_

 _“NO!_ DON’T TOUCH ME! JUST LET GO!”

“Stop moving you’ll get hurt, _woman_ -“

Limbs all over the place she struggled against his hold. With sudden turn of her head the dark spots came back, straining her vision and making her panic, breath battered as if she had just ran a mile.

“Salene-! Hey! Sal-“

Fade to black.

\------

**…THE PAST AND THE FUTURE MERGE TO MEET US HERE…**

Flesh against flesh. The warmth of another body against her own. The sound of rain pouring endlessly on wet soil. A heartbeat against her ear. Casca’s peaceful face next to hers, body curled into herself. Cold steel against her bare back. Guts holding all three of them into the night. She raises her head barely enough for her hair to caress his skin. He looks into her eyes and then she blacks out again.

.

She wakes up again when the sun is up, the rain long gone and she no longer feels like her soul is about to leave her body.

Experimentally stretching her legs she lets out a dry laugh because _of course_ all it took for her to have a good night’s sleep was a nice old hit on the head.

The leaves covering her bare form slide over her curves and fall on the ground and with reflexes she shouldn’t have in her state she furiously tries to grab them and place them back over her body in an attempt to protect the last crumb of modesty she has.

“Hey! Easy, easy!”

_Him_

The insult is ready on her tongue but she is once again cut off by him throwing his cape on her face.

“I said I’m sorry for the clothes but I couldn’t leave you with them on. You’d rather died instead?”

Instead of replying Salene opted to pin him with a look that said _I can and will punch you if you touch me again,_ and moved quickly to wrap the cloth around her.

When she was satisfied with the amount of coverage it provided her she turned to check on casca. She had remnants of dried blood between her thighs but other than that she looked fine curled up under Guts’ shirt.

“Hey” She said cautiously

“Hey”

All of them settled into a comfortable silence until Guts decided to break it:

“Why did you two join the band anyways? War must be pretty rough for a woman….not that it’s any of my business.”

Salene refused to say anything. Her heart still beating like a hummingbird, she chose to calm down first before running her mouth.

So Casca took initiative and started.

“Griffith. Because of Griffith.”

Her story was one of pain, starting from her childhood and her being sent to the _noble_ (when she got to that part Salene saw _red_ but she bit down the anger until it faded away) to Griffith finding and saving her. She made her choice and fought like hell for it, for a place in the band, _in the world_.

Griffith changed her life. And she worshipped him.

“After the fight with Griffith…. when you joined the hawks….remember what he said to you? She said, her voice small.

Guts replied with a grunt, letting her continue.

“I had never heard him speak like that. Not to anyone before and never since you.”

“You……why did you…..i wanted to …be his sword”

The sight of Casca being so upset made Salene _uncomfortable_. She had never seen Casca cry and even though they had gotten quite close during the years she had been a part of the band they had never seen each other so….vulnerable and open.

“I understand. I guess that’s what you call your dream. “

The silence from before wasn’t comfortable anymore. Salene felt like if she didn’t say something she would choke.

Maybe it was her turn to talk, her chance to let everything out. So she turned to both them and with an unsure voice she started:

“ _To hell with it_ … You asked me why I cried in my sleep. I-“

“Are you _sure_ they fell near here?”

“Yes I’m positive. They’re probably dead by now-“

The talking from just outside the cave made her stop immediately.

 _Someone is here._ And it wasn’t a comrade.

“-the leader of the hawk’s raiders and the female battalion commanders.”

The three of them looked at each other, an unspoken agreement.

“Gather everything you have. We’re leaving at nightfall. Take the medicine _now_ there’s no time to rest.”

\----------

“So what’s _your_ story? I mean no one’s born with the blade. What are you fighting for?”

No matter how hard Casca tried to pry open the shell that was Guts he didn’t budge, not even after she had shared her journey, after seeing her in maybe her most vulnerable.

Salene swore she had never met a man with walls as thick and high as Guts’.- _not counting the one up his ass._

The walk through the thick forest was exhausting. None of them were in the best shape for it but compared to Salene and Casca, Guts was getting on by just fine.

It felt like her head was going to explode, the blood seeping through the previously white cloth and staining her fingers as she brushed over it.

Casca dropping on her knees must have been the last straw for Guts and he immediately started talking down on her as she struggled to calm down her breathing.

“Women…there is no place for you in war. You have no endurance, you get mad too easily _and_ you’ve got your woman-troubles. Just how much proof do you need? You’re holding us back with your problems”

Salene’s fist collided with his jaw like thunder, a well-deserved gift she had been meaning to give him for his bullshit. Injured and delirious or not she put her body into it and send him straight to the ground. She knew she was a damn good fighter and she wouldn’t let her condition stop her from beating his ass if need be.

_“Fucking bastard.”_

“Have you lost your mind!?”

“Stop yelling you’ll alert the enemy.”

“You have a nerve s-“

_“I’m ready. Let’s go.”_

Casca stood up interrupting their childish fight from breaking out and walking up ahead the two of them without waiting for Guts or Salene to catch up.

The two looked at each other with fire in their eyes and a smirk forming on their faces and continued to walk deeper into the forest.

_He killed all of them_

_He killed **all** of them_

“GUTS!”

Everyone rushed to his side. He was in the middle of the massacre propped up against a tree. He was unconscious and wounded all over the place but he was _alive_. He had survived and Salene laughed with tears in her eyes because _of course he was covered in blood when was he not._

The return to the falcon encampment was a long one, the fatigue finally catching up to her after the events of the last few days.

It had been a while since the last time the hawks had gathered around like this, a bonfire in the middle, the night sky over their heads, a warm drink in their hands. The more battles they won the more duties they had to fulfill and, sure a rowdy tavern was nice but _this_ , nothing could compare to this. Casca was laughing next to her and everything felt right.

He was the only one missing.

Salene went to look for him when casca left to talk to Judeau. His tent was empty because _of course it was_ and he was sitting alone on top of a small hill overlooking the campsite.

She approached him slowly so as to not startle him and sat down next to him without a word.

“You still have your sword with you.” An observation more than a question.

“Couldn’t leave it in the tent”

“You know…no one’s going to attack us here. You don’t have to be on edge all the time.”

_Silence_

“It’s hot as hell down there. I don’t know if it’s the drinks or the fever or both but if I stayed any longer I thought I would melt.” She sighed.

Guts chuckled lowly at that, closing his eyes and leaning back.

Casca was quick to find you. She came up carrying a pouch of what looked to be some kind of salve. She crouched down and removed his bandages rubbing the green concoction on his soon to be scars.

“That smells disgusting” Salene laughed

“Judeau said it’s made with fairy dust”

“Did he now? Looks like something I saw corkus smoke the other day at one of those sketchy town bazaars.”

They let themselves laugh and along with the commotion happening in the camp under them, it all made for a familiar sentiment that Salene wanted to bask in forever.

The conversation took a more serious turn once Guts and Casca started talking about dreams. The people of whom the band of the hawk is composed, with their own aspirations that light up the great bonfire of the group.

And _Guts_.

Maybe the sentimentality got to him and made him talk but his dream- his dream was to _live._

Guts fought to _survive_ no matter the odds, As long as he has his sword there is no battle he can’t win. Because he doesn’t know anything else.

_Is he thinking of-_

“Are you thinking of leaving the hawks?” Casca completes Salene’s thought.

“Please tell me you’re not leaving.”

“Griffith’s here!”

All thoughts are cast aside as Rickert announces their leader’s arrival. Rushing down the hill to welcome him, casca immediately apologizes in front of everyone until Guts shoves her towards Griffith making everyone laugh as she blushes.

They all go back to their drinks but the knot on the back of her throat is still there, lingering after the implication that he might leave them.

Salene from three years ago would have been many things had she known of his departure: happy, relieved, _satisfied_.

But she never imagined she would actually be troubled and sad if he ever did so.

Thinking about it was like begging for her migraine to come back.

So instead she smiled a bit too eagerly for it to be genuine at casca and went for another drink.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man whose heart is hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternative title:
> 
> Extreme use of italics : the fanfiction (brought to you by poor grammar and recycled vocabulary)
> 
> sooooo this chapter is late lmao
> 
> BUT there's only one more left for the first part of the series to end. I left Guts' confrotation (fucking basically bc that's what is is let's all be honest here) with Casca and Salene for the next one even though ive already finished writting it- i thought it would fit better if i put it right before the eclipse because that's way more evil imo haha ALSO it i feel like will fit in very well with the reveal of salene's past.
> 
> as a result this one is a bit shorter than the others but bear w me pls. after im done with this the rest of the story is probably going to be split into (long and short) one shots and fics with less amount of chapters for the sake of my braincells. ( ive watched and read berserk so many times but i still tear up like a little bitch and this fic isn't helping)
> 
> enjoy! let me know what you think and what i can improve

The stakes are high and failure is out of the question

**_FORWARD!!..._ **

Casca’s command came out as a roar, a declaration of war leading the 2500 men behind her to put their life on the line. 

Next to her Salene lifted up her crossbow, narrowed her eyes enough for her to make out the silhouettes of the guards and then fired with a smile.

For Doldrey was going to fall that day.

Jumping off her horse she swiftly unsheathed her longsword slicing through an enemy soldier’s neck before the tip was fully out of the scabbard, leather clad fingers wiping the blood off the shiny metal.

Synapses firing with intense concentration she twirled her blade around and ran into the battle cutting down men like she was _made_ for it.

.......................

Screams and howls echoed over the fortress, the hawks waving their pennants proudly while scouts were sent to look through the massive structure for leftover enemy knights.

Doldrey had fallen.

Out of courtesy, Salene was exchanging a few words with her men, but throughout the whole briefing her eyes were fixed on the woman+ sitting against the brick walls directly across from her.

Nodding her way out of the conversation she quickly excused herself and headed towards the resting woman.

Looking around just to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted, she crouched down to her level and with a gentleness only reserved for her she lifted her hand to graze her check softly, _tenderly_ , so as to not disturb her.

Casca smiled, leaning into her touch and lazily opened her eyes to take a good look at Salene.

“Congratulations. You know you really made a short work on that ugly bastard. Wish I was there to see the look on his face before you sliced his head in half- and did you do a _fucking backflip_ over him or were those new ones messing with me because-“

Casca’s face split into what can only be described as a tired grin, letting out a light yet surprisingly hearty for her current state laugh.

“Do you _ever_ stop talking? I was about to ask you if you’re fine but I guess your usual rambling gave me all the answers I needed”

Salene pouted ( _pouted_ ) and shifted her head to the side.

“Hmph” she murmured “that’s rich coming from you. I’m not the one tweaked out from poison. You look like your soul’s about to fly off.”

Salene turned to sit right next to her both of them laughing at their childish antics.

With a deep breath she followed the clouds drifting by above them.

“I was worried for you, you know. Couldn’t be present when you got hit and that made me even more anxious. I knew you’d be all right but that feeling was still there.” She continued to look ahead even as Casca turned to the side.

“It’s all finished. _We_ finished it….You finished it.”

_You are amazing._

Salene took the other woman’s lack of reply as a silent agreement and observed the last of her bandmates leave the surrounding area.

A moment’s rest was long overdue and she wasn’t going to let it slip through her fingers.

..............

The clinking of armor mixed with heavy footsteps tugged at the strings of her consciousness and soon Guts’ body blocked the sun from her sore eyes.

“Hey”

She smiled.

Casca stirred due to the sudden commotion and lifted herself off Salene’s body.

“Good job. Both of you.” He smiled

“Hey, are you hurt?” the deep red stain near Casca’s shoulder injury made his expression turn serious, body leaning forward ready to help her.

“It’s just a scratch…To be honest I could really use a hand right now though.”

Guts had barely secured her on his shoulder when the first tears ran down her cheeks.

“Casca-!” Salene’s hand left her newly fastened sword and reached for the weeping woman’s own.

_(Even then her hand had only two places to be, to reach for;_ **her** _and her sword. After all the shit and the blood and everything they endured that remained a constant between them.)_

_(She would kill all the gods above and gladly be damned for her.)_

“It’s amazing.”

Guts and Salene wanted to interfere but neither of them dared to say anything before Casca was finished:

“Even now….looking down at him from up here, surrounded by his comrades…he seems so distant….so untouchable. It fills me with sorrow.”

Guts finally moved to speak but Casca interrupted him again with a laugh:

“I always feel this way. It’s always been like that. He’s far away from me…beyond my reach”

Salene tried to find the right words to comfort her but deep down inside she knew she would be lying to both of them.

She was right. She was right and she _knew_ it they all did, Casca just had the courage to voice their shared thoughts and it pained her, it made her furious and hurt and it made her feel like the last few years she had spent in this family, under his command was just time borrowed, a dream that despite contributing greatly to she had no place in.

She felt used.

It was all futile.

_(it’s just like ------------ all over again isn’t it.)_

_…_

It didn’t take long for Guts to firm his resolve and take the matter in his own hands:

_“I disagree.”_

In a swift movement he swept Casca up resting her on his left forearm like she weighed less than a feather and placed his free arm on Salene’s lower back, facial features softening, urging her to move forward while giving her room to breathe and collect her pieces back together.

“It’s time to greet your commander.”

Her misty eyes widened and she fought to keep the tears from spilling over as all three of them continued to walk down to reunite with the rest of the band.

She pretended not to notice the way he hesitated and stopped to look at the foreign looking sword he left behind him.

_(Somewhere along the battle worn terrain two red eyes loomed over the sandstorm.)_

................................

_Now this is new_

The victory reception was overwhelming to say the least.

People flooded the streets: kids scrabbling to climb on rooftops, families gathered on balconies reaching out towards the passing soldiers, women handing out more flower bouquets than one could hold in two arms.

It all felt too good to be true.

The reclaiming of the fortress was a massive achievement, Salene knew that, but nothing prepared her for the common folk’s enthusiastic welcome.

_“Here’s to the heroes of midland!”_

Women and men gathered around them like moths to a flame, young maidens crying out their names while throwing flower petals in their direction.

Spotting Casca among soldiers and peasants, she playfully waved at her direction and burst out laughing when a group of what she presumed to be teenage girls started to fawn over the commander as she passed by them.

Casca shyly laughed back at her but her rosy cheeks told another story-she was enjoying this as much as they all were.

“Look! Look! It’s the raiders!”

….Almost all of them.

_What am I going to do with him?_

Tugging on her horses’ reins she settled next to Guts so she could talk without having to yell over the roar of the crowd:

“You’re thinking too hard. _Again.”_

“Huh?”

“Y’know, I can almost hear you beating yourself up inside that thick head of yours. What’s the matter with you? Everyone’s ecstatic over this how come you’re not enjoying it?”

“It’s nothing. Just…who would’ve thought we would be treated like this three years ago.”

Gaston, who was passing by looking satisfied as ever, overheard their conversation and spoke up:

“No one, that’s for sure.”

….

“No one but Griffith.”

Salene was skeptical but she held her head up high and accepted a forget-me-not from a young child, choosing not to pry any further.

“Then, if nothing’s the matter I think I’m going to go back to annoying the hell out of Corkus. He’s sucking some poor girl’s face off and I _can’t_ possibly miss this chance to pester him with my presence. _And_ the fact that I got more flowers than him.”

“Suit yourself.”

Guts lowered his head and chuckled, his eyes trailing after Salene until she disappeared into the crowd.

.........................

She couldn’t breathe.

Whether it was because of her nervousness or that _goddamn_ corset she did not know but what she _did_ know was that she probably- _definitely_ \- looked ridiculous in that dress.

(Now she understood why all the high born women giggled and swayed all the time, the lightheadedness that came along with having your intestines _quite literally_ in a bind worked better than all the ale she could stomach.)

The victory ball had already started and she had yet to come out of her room, focusing instead on scrutinizing the layers of fabric covering her body.

Absolutely _ridiculous_.

She might as well be the court jester. Change professions to save her the embarrassment.

Swallowing down her apprehension she tucked a loose strand of hair away from her face and put on the silk, _expensive_ gloves she was given.

The doorknob seemed to burn under her covered palms

..............................

_Gods above_

It took all her might not to wobble pathetically as she took her first steps into the massive room and had it not been for the couple of shots she previously downed from her Flask Full of Suspiciously Odorless Alcohol – _emergencies only_ \- Salene was sure she would’ve fallen on her ass, right next to the ridiculously big flower vase.

Had she been a few years younger, before the band, _before that night,_ she would’ve loved every second of it. But right now she wanted the room to swallow her whole. She thought about how absurd it all was, how she never even flinched in front of a mighty enemy but right now her entire being was trembling at the implication of having to dance and chatter mindlessly and have _fun_ with no repercussions.

The heels were taller than the armored boots she was used to wearing and combined with her already tall stature it make her stick out like a sore thumb between all the other women in the room and _why_ did she feel like this-

_Casca._

One look at her and Salene’s breath was knocked out of her lungs, heart beating impossibly fast as she felt all the blood in her body rise and focus on single spot on her face.

She was _beautiful_.

Salene didn’t know what or _how_ to think but at that moment, a switch flipped and she confirmed something she had been unconsciously been trying to push down and bottle up so tight that even she wouldn’t be able to uncover.

But she did.

 _She_ did and she was beautiful. So beautiful.

“Excuse me miss. May I be so lucky as to have a moment of your precious time?”

The light voice of a young man snapped her out of her trance and when she turned around to face him she knew she probably looked stupid.

“Uh-“

“I’ve heard so much about you, the mighty commander of the hawks, but none of the rumors addressed how positively _lovely_ you are on the eyes.”

“Thank you-“

At that, another man came and settled right next to the first noble. And then another, And then _another. And another._

They gave her saccharine compliments, leaving no room for her to talk and soon the nervousness was replaced by frustration, and all it took was for her to throw one last look at Casca only to see her elbowing someone in the face and then running out on the porch, to politely and _firmly_ excuse herself to follow her out in the night.

Her steps came to a halt when she reached the arched doors leading out to the veranda, alerting the only two present people sitting on the thick stone railing.

They both sharply turned around at the same time with guts ready to jump on his feet clearly alert, but the words perished on his lips.

The situation was ridiculous; three people sitting still and staring at each other not uttering a single word. The fancy clothes made the whole thing even weirder and Salene would’ve burst out laughing had it not been for Him.

The feeling from before came back stronger than ever, making her dizzy, unfocused and too aware of her surroundings all at the same time.

She _really_ wasn’t far from throwing up.

Shame creeped up on her once again and she probably looked like a ghost and _shit_ they were both so _...so-_

“What happened? Are you alright?” Guts spoke, eyes still wide and mouth slightly open.

“I uh, there were a few men and they were talking to me and I uh, I got overwhelmed, And I had to leave. Their approach was less than appropriate so I left as fast as I could. I just… Who the hell am I kidding? _Fuck it_. I look ridiculous in this dress and these- these _heels_ and this is so out of place I’m not used to it and for some reason I’m really nervous even though I know it’s not that serious. I’m making a big deal out of it aren’t I? I look cheap.”

Somehow looking even more stunned than before he chuckled to himself and Casca let out a sigh she had most likely been suppressing all night.

“You don’t. You look lovely. In fact that’s what I was saying to Casca right now.”

Salene let out out a groan and moved to sit next to Casca.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better”

“I mean it. You’re both far better than those noble girls chasing after Griffith”

Casca smiled sadly at the mention of his name.

“Casca….why don’t you ask Griffith to dance?”

“No. That’s not possible. I don’t even remember the last time I danced. I’d probably step on his feet and ruin everything.”

“…But what about you? I didn’t expect you to show up. You don’t seem like the type to enjoy this type of celebrations.”

A beat of silence, then:

“I want to see everything through.”

“What do you mean?” Salene couldn’t help herself.

“Griffith. The band of the hawk. Everything we have achieved ever since I joined you three years ago, what he’s planning to do now that he’s come so far. I want to see it through, to its conclusion. That’s why I’m here tonight, to finish it.”

_No……_

“Guts.”

Salene whispered his name loud enough for both of them to notice. She would be lying to herself if she said she’s not devastated by this. She knew this moment would come. She knew it was inevitable. But this was too soon; it can’t be, not right now. Not now that they have finally created something for themselves, something worth staying for.

(Not now that she-)

“You’re thinking about leaving aren’t you? No, you _want_ to leave the hawks.”

It was less of a question and more of a statement. He already made up his mind she was sure of it.

“Guts. It’s okay. You can tell us.” Casca continued.

The quiet moment was shattered by the crowd’s uproar coming from inside the ballroom.

“I’m guessing that’s the king.” Salene’s face twisted in mild disgust as she followed behind Casca who was already up on her feet and ready to head back in.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I’m gonna stay here and cool off. No need to hear another one of the king’s speeches. I’m _sure_ it will be extremely interesting though. Go ahead without me.”

“We’ll be inside.”

Just as the two women were about to pass through the entrance, Guts spoke up again.

“You know…”

“What was that?” Asked Salene.

“Nothing…never mind.”

Understanding that he clearly wasn’t in the mood to elaborate further, she dropped it and continued walking.

Back inside, Casca set out to the front looking for Griffith while Salene stayed in the back of the room near the windows, hands behind her back, being aware of but not paying attention to the king.

She truly couldn’t name many things less stimulating than hearing royals talk.

What she did _not_ expect though was for her life and status to change in between sentences.

Band of the hawk. White knights.

_Fucking hell_

The applause startled her back into thinking, repeating the king’s exact words but Salene was in no condition to grasp what just happened.

She scanned over the room for Casca, finding her equally stunned and walking towards Griffith but the moment she reached him he fell along with his goblet, spilling blood red all over the marble floors.

Casca’s scream sent the room into a frenzy.

.............

****

It was excruciating.

When the door opened and Griffith came in everyone broke down in relief welcoming him back with glossy eyes and tight hugs.

Guts was sitting back against the door smiling (That _bastard)_ and Salene shook her head at him because of _course_ he knew, it had always been like that. Just the two of them against the world, always working alone.

She laughed and laughed and _laughed_ until her throat went sore because she was relived but she was also so tired of everything and _confused_ -so many feelings wrapped into one small thing that was her soul and she didn’t know how long she would be able to keep it all together.

_Because Salene had secrets of her own too._

..................................................

The month following the queen’s funeral was seemingly uneventful.

The calm before the storm.

It was snowing the night Casca came storming into her room.

Sleep started to come naturally to her again. In her eyes it was a miracle; it had to be. The band had settled. No more daily encounters with death, no more nightmares.

So it came as a surprise when Casca nearly threw her off the bed in a desperate attempt to quickly wake her up.

“Wh-what..Casca what happened, what’s wrong?”

The other woman stayed silent, gripping the sheets Salene was curled under, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Casca! What happened? Casca-!”

“He’s leaving!”

Without a word Salene stood up and swiftly dressed to face the coldest day of the year.

..

........................................................

_“You belong to me.”_

Salene stood still. Her legs frozen in place, rendered useless, the nerves not cooperating with her will to go up to Guts and slap him across the face.

She wanted to hit him; she wanted to keep him there for as long as she could, for this could not be goodbye, not yet. She refused.

Griffith unsheathed his sword, the sharp edge of the blade licking against the inner leather of the scabbard, the sound cutting cleanly through the thickness of the tension between them.

Guts wanted to avoid conflict but Griffith was adamant.

He won him with his sword and he would lose him with it. Dead or alive.

Casca ran up to Guts screaming, trying to do something , _anything_ to prevent this from happening.

Salene just watched.

“We need to stop them! Help me! _Salene_!”

Judeau, stricter than she’d ever heard him sound told her to not interfere. Stay away from it.

After all that’s what mercenaries do.

Live by the sword. Die by the sword.

It took just one movement for guts to break Griffith’s blade, the sheer force of his swing creating a cloud of snow around his still figure.

Griffith fell to his knees, broken blade slipping out of his grip and Guts walked away as if nothing happened, only bidding him a farewell.

Salene screamed his name as he disappeared into the snow.

**Author's Note:**

> sooo this wasnt supposed to be as long as it turned out to be BUT i got caught up in the moment i love this series so much..basically the first chapter is kind of a prologue/introduction to the main character without revealing much of her personality and motives i just wanted to narate how she met the main trio and how she ended up in the band of the hawk.
> 
> the golden age is one of my favorite arcs and i tried to do justice to everyones character- i hope this isnt too ooc!
> 
> basically im writting this as i re-read the manga, i have a somewhat clear idea of where the story is heading towards and im planning on not following the actual storyline of the manga religiously. i want to switch things up and ill try to incorporate my character without making it seem unnatural and boring.
> 
> since this is simply an intriduction you only get small glimpses of mc's past and what happened to her which will slowly be revealed in each chapter. lot's of future angst !
> 
> the only thing im going to reveal is that you could say she has...experience with sacrifices and the otherworldly :)
> 
> feedback is welcome


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